I'm not...
by AyanamiChan
Summary: A satire of Beowulf. Grendel isn't evil, he's only misunderstood!


Disclaimer:   
Beowulf is much to old to be owned by anyone, so I'm not violating any copyrights!! This must be a first.. 

Authoress Note: This is my little satire of Beowulf, originally an English assignment. I hope you like it!! 

* * * * * 

I'm not... 

* * * * * 

"But, Mother-" 

"I said go!" 

The young man sighed and turned around. His head drooped, and he made his way to the door. He reached for the doorknob, but hesitated. He studied the commonplace device, not quite willing to leave. It was large, simple, and rough, made of hard wood. It required great strength to turn. _Just like everything else in this godforsaken land._ he thought bitterly. He let out a long sigh, and spoke again. 

"Mother, I'm not-" 

"Go." came the harsh reply. "Grendel. Don't come back until you've fetched the Meat." 

"Yes, Mother." he said. _Don't worry. I won't._ He summoned his courage, turned the doorknob, swung open the door, lifted his foot, and stepped over the threshold. 

He walked out through the main street of his subterranean village, lost in thought. He wandered towards the main gate, trying to ignore the taunts of his peers. 

"Well, if it ain't the veggie?" 

"What's that freak doing here?" 

"Is it true he won't eat Meat?" 

"Oh, forget him, let's go to my house. My mother just cooked up a big pot of Meat for dinner!" 

Grendel felt his stomach lurch up in his throat as he thought about the Meat they spoke of. They did not mean cattle, pigs, or other mindless livestock. Rather they referred to living, breathing, _thinking_ beings. 

"I'm not the freak." he whispered to himself. Grendel thought sadly of the humans that the ogres ate at every meal. They called themselves the Spear-Danes, and they were a race of intelligent warriors. _That already places them above us._ Grendel thought wryly. All the ogres ever thought about was where their next meal was coming from. Still, the Danes couldn't defend themselves from the ogres that lived below the mountains. 

Grendel sighed again and continued on his way. He reached the only entrance and exit to the giant cavern. The gates opened before him and he left the village. Grendel emerged on the surface behind a great waterfall. 

He moved out from behind the waterfall and out of the murky moor, unseen by human eyes. All ogres were trained to enter and exit the village silently. It would absolutely would not do to have those annoying humans find the location of their home. 

So, dispite his bulk, he crept silently to a place that no other ogre had ever seen or knew about. Deep in the forest stood a wall of ivy. Grendel approached this wall, and reached his hands into the greenery. He unlocked the heavy, hidden door and entered the secret place. 

Inside, there was a small cottage, and a vegetable garden. There grew carrots, cabbage, squash, apple and orange trees, and many other kinds of plants. The young ogre loved this place. He oft slipped out of the city to tend it, and to prepare it for the inevitable. He was preparing it for the day he could no longer live among his own kind. The day they would cast him out. 

Today. 

* * * * *

"Beautiful." the young ogre whispered, transfixed by the splendor before him. 

"Damian!" a voice called from outside. A stone hit the window, and the voice rang out again. "Hey Damian, you in there?" 

Damian reluctantly pulled his eyes from the mirror, and opened the window, glaring down at he who dared interrupt his love affair with his reflection. 

"Hey, Damian, did you know that little veggie Grendel was sent to go fetch some Meat by his mother?" his friend, Eric, called. 

Damian laughed. "Oh? Well, we know he won't do anything, so why did you bother me?" he asked, his demeanor suddenly harsh. 

"It's been a day and he's not back!" Eric said. 

"Humpf. He probably got caught by the very Meat he was trying to catch!" he announced, and pulled his head back inside. 

"Wait!" Eric called, "She asked me to go get some Meat for her, and look for him while we're out there." 

A small grin flitted across Damian's face. "I'll go with you. Meet me at the gate in half an hour." 

Eric nodded an acknowledgement, and ran off. 

* * * * *

Grendel kneeled in his carrot patch, pulling a weed with all his great inborn strength. Still, the stubborn plant defied him. He tugged at it until sweat beaded on his brow. He sat back and tried something no one in his home town had ever done. 

He thought over his problem, listed possible solutions, and discarded ideas that hasn't worked. After a moments consideration, he worked his fingers gently into the soil around the weed, careful not to disturb the budding plants nearby. After several minutes of careful work, he lifted the weed, roots and all, from the ground. 

Grendel smiled broadly and tossed the weed into the wicker basket beside him. He then walked over and splashed his face with water from the stream that ran through the back of the garden. He returned to the carrot patch and looked down at the basket, his heart welling with pride at his achievement. 

He had outsmarted the weed. 

* * * * *

Damian, Eric, and a few other juvenile delinquents- together, the pride and joy of their underground village- crept towards the town of the Spear-Danes. Damian halted at the edge of the forest, raising a hand to stop the others. 

"Look." he whispered, pointing at the great mead-hall that hadn't been there before. 

"What's that?" Eric asked. 

"I don't know." Damian answered, "But I bet there's a good meal waiting for us inside." 

This was met with grins and a soft "Yum." by his comrades. Together, they silently moved to beneath one ornate window of the great hall. The motley crew peered in through the tinted glass, and what they saw brought a round of sinister smirks to their faces. 

"Dinner time." Eric said, rubbing his fat belly. He moved for the door, but Damian stopped him. 

"I've got an idea..." he said, craftly. 

* * * * *

Hrothgar, King of the Spear-Danes, bid his warriors farewell as he left his newly built mead-hall, Herot. The drunken crowd yelled out a slurred goodnight to him as he rode away. The several dozen warriors, now no longer having to worry about propriety in front of the king, began to do what Spear-Danes do best: Tell tales of their conquests, both on the battlefield and off. 

After the telling of tales was finished, and all the men had exhausted their creative energies, they laid down to sleep. They left their swords and armor on the other side of the room, their guard down completely. 

One of the warriors, plagued by nightmares, didn't sleep. He sat up, and looked around the mead-hall. All were asleep, and the hall was silent. 

He laid back down in his dark corner, when he heard a loud clunk from the front of the hall. The great doors swung open, and the cold night wind blew into the hall. The warrior looked over to see who the late arrival was. 

What stood silhoutted in the great doors was not a man. The warrior's eyes widened as he studied the figure. It was a giant, hulking form, slightly hunched over. It's great muscles were visible even in the dim moonlight from outside. 

It entered the hall, moving incredibly silently for one so large. The warrior's breath caught in his throat as he identified the intruder as an ogre. He'd heard of ogres plaguing the countryside, but had hoped never to find one. He watched as the brute picked up one of his fellow warriors, and snapped his neck with one clean blow. He slung the cooling body over his shoulder, and moved on to the next man. Not one man stirred, for the monster made no noise. 

After he had killed five men, the young warrior summoned all his courage and stood, groping for his sword in the darkness. 

"Who...who are you?" he asked. His voice quavered, betraying his fear. 

The monster glared back at him, his grotesque face made all the more ugly by the shadows of the night. "Grendel." it said, it's voice like rocks grating together. Then it vanished into the night. 

* * * * *

Grendel almost never left his place of sanctuary in the forest. In his small garden he had food, water, shelter, all the things a creature needed to survive. He still yearned to know what was happening in the world outside of his little forest. 

Fortunately, human patrols often passed by his garden, and they spoke loud enough to overhear the gossip of the moment. What he heard this day shocked him to the core. 

"The attack on the mead-hall that night was savage! I still can't believe that five men are gone, and only one man woke to see it." a young voice said. 

"Well, believe it. Four boys are now without fathers. The ogre who attacked our hall will be destroyed." a seasoned man replied. 

"That's right!" the eager boy replied, "Grendel shall die!" he shouted into the woods. The rest of the conversation was lost to Grendel, as they walked farther into the woods. 

"I'm not the one who attacked them." Grendel heaved a heavy sigh, and went back to his garden, choosing to ignore it. The boys in his village could do whatever they wanted under his name. As long as nobody found him, he would be safe. 

Twelve years passed thus, and Grendel grew from an outcast boy to a forgotten man. He tended his gardens with great care, never leaving the walls of ivy that separated him from the outside. He often listened to the patrols passing by. 

The earnest boy he'd first heard twelve years back had become the seasoned warrior that was once his mentor. Now a new youth followed him during patrols, as the old man sat at home, watching his pupil with pride. 

One day, the patrol brought him news of an unexpected sort. They brought more then the news of 'Grendel's' latest horrors, and minor gossip. This time they spoke of hope. 

"Word comes of one who will defeat Grendel!" the youth said. 

"Foolishness." his mentor replied. "We've fought for twelve years, and hardly scratched his infernal hide." 

"But, they say it's Beowulf, champion of the Storm-Geats! They say he's got the strength of 30 men, and once wrestled five giants alone!" the youth persisted. 

"And who, praytell, is 'they?' " the older man countered. The youth, chastened, did not respond. "This Beowulf will come, and perhaps he will defeat Grendel. But, do not believe he has the strength of 30 men until you see him smash a boulder with his bare hands. Then be sure to check that the boulder wasn't rigged." he imparted a bit of wisdom. 

The youth's response was lost as the patrol headed away from Grendel's garden. 

"So, a warrior from the north comes. Will he defeat the impostor?" Grendel mused. "But even if he does, the Spear-Danes will hate me." he sighed. 

"I'm not the one they hate. I'm not evil." 

* * * * *

Beowulf stood before Hrothgar, and offered his services against Grendel. He, while in the lands of the Danes, had to comply with their customs, and tell of his accomplishments and achievements. All through his speech to the king, a scribe sat by the throne, scribbling down every word Beowulf said. He had the odd feeling that he was writing down more that what he really said. 

"I've wrestled a giant, and fought a sea demon with the help of my friend. I'm stronger than a normal man, and I excel at sword combat." he said, continuing with his speech. Hrothgar and the Danes seemed to enjoy it, but Beowulf could see no purpose in the endless bragging. 

"We welcome you, Beowulf, and we hope you defeat the ogre Grendel." The formalities never ceased. 

Hours later, all of Beowulf's men were asleep, and Beowulf rested his eyes in the mead-hall, Herot, thinking over the events of the day. He'd snatched a glimpse at the scribe's parchment, and was most displeased with what he saw there. Wrestled five giants? Strength of 30 men? Fought a dozen sea demons alone? _What kind of madman is this scribe?_

Beowulf also cursed this insane venture. No one had told him they wanted him to fight an ogre! _I'm handy with a sword, but an ogre? I'm not _that_ good_. 

Beowulf was jerked out of his thoughts by a low growl echoing through the chamber. His eyes sprang open although he did not move, not ready to disclose his presence. 

A hulking figure stood on the other side of the hall. Beowulf saw it pick up a man and skillfully snap his neck. When he slung the body over his shoulder Beowulf recognized the victim as one of his finest warriors, and his best friend. 

With a cry of anger and grief, Beowulf lurched to his feet, sword in hand. The monster turned to face him, grinning ferally in the darkness. 

"So," it rumbled, "Another pathetic human thinks to challenge Grendel!?" It laughed, seeming to take some perverse pleasure in using the name. "Your death will be much more painful than that of your friend here." 

Beowulf did not give the demon the dignity of a response. Rather, he summoned all of his strength, let out a hoarse battle cry, and charged, swinging his sword like a madman. 

The ogre's eyes widened- 

* * * * *

When the battle haze cleared from Beowulf's mind, he aloofly examined the damage he had done. Several of the tables were broken into useless splinters, and four of his best men were wounded trying to calm his bloodlust. An arm of inhuman proportions lay on the ground next to his dead comrade. 

Hrothgar complimented him for his deed, and continued with the long speeches and flowery words that he loved so much. He ordered Grendel's arm made into a trophy, another of the king's empty gestures. And through it all, that stupid scribe kept scratching on his parchment. 

When it came time for Beowulf to respond with his own overly long and ornate speech, he said only this: 

"Grendel shall die." Beowulf turned stiffly on his heel and stalked out. 

* * * * *

The next day the patrol brought dire news to Grendel's hidden garden. 

"Beowulf and his men were attacked last night at the mead-hall. He cut off Grendel's arm! I saw it!" 

"Yes, as did I." his mentor replied, weariness in his voice. 

"He searches these very woods for the monster now!" the youth replied. 

"Then why are we on patrol?" 

The youth had no reply. 

After they left, Grendel sighed and returned to his garden. Confident that his garden would remain hidden, he returned to planting potatoes. 

* * * * *

Beowulf walked through the forest, his senses on full alert. No bird hopped from branch to branch without his knowing. 

He'd left his men at the Dane city, not willing to endanger any more of his dear friends. With his sword in hand, he set off to find the demon who had slain his best friend. 

The man stopped mid-step, listening. _There, to the left._ He slowly and silently made his way to a wall of ivy. He placed his hand against the greenery. Beowulf was shocked to find that the ivy was easily pushed away, and behind it was a bronze doorknob. He grasped the knob and turned firmly. He swung the door open before him. 

Beowulf stared at the view before him. There, an ogre kneeled, tending plants. It looked over it's shoulder at the intruder, let out a heavy sigh, and stood to face him. In the process it revealed two arms, both present and in fine working condition. Beowulf's hand tightened around the hilt of his sword. _It's not _him,_ but he'll still die for the sin of his brother._

"Who are you, lad?" the ogre asked, sounding more like an irritated old man than an evil servant of the Lord of Hell. "Well? Who are you, and what are you doing in my garden?" it paused. "I tell you now, I'm not the one you seek, I am not." 

"I am Beowulf." he said, mustering his pride, trying to sound dignified, even in this unexpected situation. 

"Oh? Beowulf? I heard you were coming, I did." He let out a laugh. "I heard that you took Grendel's arm, that I did." He laughed some more, his odd speech lending a strange air to the conversation. 

Beowulf stood still, not quite sure how to react. After a moment, he asked "You're not mad that I wounded him?" 

"Mind? Gods no, boy! I'm proud of you, that I am! Not a man in twelve winters had scratched that one, no!" the monster laughed again. "Now, boy, be on your way. I'll tell you this, that I will. Behind the waterfall in where he hides." Beowulf figited, not responding. He didn't like to be called 'boy,' but he wasn't inclined to argue at the moment. 

"Why do you tell me this?" he inquired. 

"Why? Because if you slay 'Grendel,' then I'll have one less worry, that I will. Oh, and boy. Don't be going to the waterfall alone. One human would die before he knew it, that he would." he said, before turning his back to the warrior and bending over his plants. 

Beowulf did not miss the mocking tone on the name Grendel. "Who are you?" he ventured. 

"Me?" the ogre's jovial attitude disappeared. He heaved a wistful sigh, and looked over at Beowulf. "They used to call _me_ Grendel." 

Beowulf let out a savage cry, drew his broad sword, and charged. 

* * * * *

Beowulf stared out at the endless blue above him, marred only by an occasional white cloud drifting by. He groaned, and sat up, holding his head in his hands. 

"Oh? Finally awake, are you now?" the monster asked, peering down at him. "Sorry I had to hit you so hard, but you were in a mad rage, that you were." he said, placing a finly-crafted bowl filled with water next to the young human. "I tell you again, I'm not the one you seek, that I'm not." 

"I...I'm still alive?" he said, reaching for the bowl beside him. He hesitated before he picked it up. 

"Yes, you're alive. And, lad, if I were out to kill you, I would've done so already, that I would. The water's no harm." Grendel smiled, and sat down next to him. 

"Why?" 

"Why?" Grendel echoed. "Why what?" 

"Why didn't you kill me?" 

"I'm not like my people, that I'm not." he said sadly. "Now, why did you get so mad that you would fly into a blind rage at the mention of my name, you did?" 

"Grendel... the other Grendel killed my friend." he said. 

"And?" Grendel scoffed. "That's all?" 

"That's all!" Beowulf surged to his feet, only to sink back down, cradling his head. "He was my friend!" 

"And?" Grendel persisted. "There's a man who walks patrol out by here once a week. He's lost his father, brothers, and older sister to someone killing in my name, he did." Grendel sighed. "They say his mother died of heartbreak." 

"I...I didn't know..." Beowulf stammered, looking up at him. He idly wondered exactly when Grendel had ceased to be an 'it,' and became a 'him' in his mind. 

"Well, now you do." Grendel said. He got up and walked towards the little cottage in the garden. 

"What about you?" Beowulf called after him. "Why don't you challenge whoever's using your name?" 

"It's not my name anymore, it's not. It's his now. Even the ogres have forgotten me." 

"Still, why don't you fight him?" he persisted. 

"I'm not a fighter, I'm not." Grendel said bitterly. 

"Not a fighter? Why, you took me down before I knew it!" 

"Even a child could've taken you down, what with you blindly swinging your sharp little toy like that!" he snapped. "I prefer to keep my wits about me in battle, that I do." 

This gave the young Geat pause. This ogre had a point. 

"Be off with you, boy. Haven't you got a demon to slay or some such nonsense?" Grendel broke into his thoughts. 

Beowulf stood carefully, and prepared to leave. "Then, farewell, Ogre-" 

"I'm not an ogre!" he interrupted. 

"Then, friend-" 

"I'm not your friend!" 

"Then what are you?!" Beowulf asked, annoyed. 

"What?" the ogre turned to look at the human curiously. 

"Every time you open your mouth, I hear what you aren't! You aren't my enemy, yet you aren't my friend. You aren't this, you aren't that! By the Gods, what are you?" He yelled, pointing a finger at the brute that stood before him. 

"I...I don't know..." Grendel trailed off, unsure of how to proceed. 

"Then I suggest you find out." Beowulf said, picking up his sword, and sheathing it. "I'll be off now. Goodbye, sir." he gave the ogre a small bow and turned around sharply. He left, closing the door gently behind him, leaving the dumbstruck Grendel in his wake. He stood in silence until the footsteps receded into nothingness. 

"That I will, lad. Yes, that I will." 

* * * * *

Beowulf returned to Hrothgar, and reported his findings of his search. He had located the demon's lair behind the waterfall in the murky, misty moor, and asked for a legion of men to accompany him in his quest to slay the monster. 

Hrothgar granted his request, and he and his men set out for the waterfall. As Beowulf led his men through the forest, one young Spear-Dane came up to speak with him. 

"Sir Beowulf," he said, his voice full of awe, "There are rumors of an old hermit living around these parts. I myself have seen signs of him on patrol." 

"You need not fear." he replied. "Nothing of danger lives here." The boy nodded and returned to his place in the ranks. 

Grendel, in his hidden garden, smiled. He waited until the last of the small army had passed, and pulled his pack over his shoulder. Then he said his goodbyes to his companions over the past twelve years, his plants. He hoped that they would all fare well until- or if- he returned. Mostly, he prayed that his carrots wouldn't be strangled by errant weeds. 

_Speaking of which..._ he glanced over at the carrot patch, to see a weed growing in the exact same spot as it had been when he had first arrived in the garden. Grendel made a rude gesture, and let it be. He smiled gently, and opened the door to the forest. Stepping out, he looked around, picking a direction and stepping over the small threshold of the door, and out into the world. 

"Well now, I'll never find my answers cooped up in a little place like that, I won't." he said to no one in particular. He then left the forest, and set off to find himself. 

* * * * *

Beowulf returned from his quest triumphant. Hrothgar showered him with riches, as his own king was sure to do when he returned to the lands of the Storm-Geats. 

Hrothgar's scribe took careful note of all that took place, but Beowulf had the same nagging suspicion that more than just the facts was being recorded. 

_He went behind the waterfall with his men? No, no, no, not nearly heroic enough!_ the scribe thought. _No, he went in alone, and emerged hours later with Grendel's head in his hand! Yes! But to find the body, he had to fight.... Grendel's mother! Yes! That's it! This tale will make me famous until the end of time! Long after Beowulf is forgotten my name will remain! Yes!_

* * * * * 

Like it? I hope you did!! *hugs* 

* * * * *   
-Ayanami_Chan   
ayanami_rei@softhome.net 


End file.
